


In Case of Emergency...

by casket4mytears



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Family, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Waiting For Update, What were you thinking Jughead Jones, bughead - Freeform, chosen family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14677833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casket4mytears/pseuds/casket4mytears
Summary: While waiting for news of Jughead's condition, Betty receives an unexpected phone call that may just be the strength she needs to get through this nightmare. Post 2X21.





	In Case of Emergency...

**Author's Note:**

> A quick drabble-ish one shot, as we wait for the season finale. I had an idea, felt something missing in these dark hours.
> 
> I disclaim.

Betty is in an off-white and beige purgatory.

Her hands wring in her lap as she sits in the chair, hunched forward, listening intently as nurses shuffle to and fro. The riot earlier in the evening— _God, was that tonight_?—had taken a toll upon Riverdale's only hospital, straining its narrow halls to capacity, but most of the injuries had been thankfully minor. Of course, it hadn't helped that her father had murdered one of the two primary doctors on call.

 _My father is the Black Hood. He wanted to kill me and mom._ Had that only been a few hours ago?

The hits keep coming, and somehow, Betty is still breathing, still awake to speak of it. The hits kept coming for Jughead, she remembers. They covered him in blood and bruises, agony and ashes, and left him to die. She'd scarcely recognized him beneath the rusted red of the carnage.

To the right of her shoe lies a rusty spot, perfectly round. Betty wonders if the patient survived.

Candy wrappers litter the floor beneath the chairs, row upon row. Riverdale's imperfections have never been more readily apparent. Archie tries to reach her, bringing her coffee and rubbing her shoulder. He promises Jughead will be okay, but she can't see him, can't touch his beautiful face, can't hear him whisper her name with a reverence better suited to saints. She needs proof of life, but the doctors will only let FP through.

And so she waits.

Toni and Cheryl are asleep in the corner, curled into a ball, holding fast as if to shield each other from harm. She should have been his shield. She should have been there to protect him, to talk him out of whatever foolish suicidal mission he'd undertaken. Because she knew this was no accident, no unfortunate meeting in the black of night. No, Jughead had walked through fire, ready to burn.

"Betty? I'm going to go get some food. Do you want anything?"

Archie stands before her, messy hair and muddy letterman jacket-clad. She shakes her head no, the thought of food making her stomach lurch. He suggests tea, to which she nods, if only to be alone for a few moments.

A glimmer of sunlight peeks through the blinds and Betty wants to scream. How dare the sun show its golden face? How dare the world move on as if the kindest, most thoughtful person in the entire town wasn't fighting for his life down the goddamn hall? Her fists curl, fingernails digging deep, drawing blood. The pain presses on her, forces her to exhale the breath caught in her chest. She hasn't done this in months, not since Jughead kissed her palms, held them close and welcomed her darkness as readily as her light.

Guilt sinks in quickly. _He'll be so sad when he sees the marks_.

She prays he'll live to see them. If he lives, she'll never do it again. There's so many things she'll never do again, if she's only given another chance to be with him.

She crumples tissues in her hands, dabbing at her cuts as subtly as she can. Hunched over, she can hide. She can be smaller, be less. She can give up her space so that he might uncurl, stretch out and smile. She remembers that first night they shared a bed, remembers waking up in his arms and feeling at peace. Feeling like she was _home_.

A buzzing in her pocket startles her and she drops the bloody tissues in her confusion. Her hand fumbles for her phone as she kicks the scarlet-stained Kleenex beneath her chair. It's an unknown number from an area code she doesn't recognize.

She shouldn't answer it. But instinctively, she knows she needs to.

"Hello?"

" _Um, hi. Who's this?_ "

"I think I should be asking that," Betty replies, irritated. "Where are you even calling from?"

" _Toledo. Ohio, if geography's not your thing._ "

Betty's heart begins to race as she analyzes the voice on the other end. She has no idea how or why this is happening, but—

" _Look, maybe I dialed wrong, but my brother sent me a really, really scary text message last night, the kind you send when you're going to make like Cobain, and he said if I need anything, that I should call this number_."

"Jellybean?" Betty whispers.

" _JB_ ," the girl immediately corrects Betty. " _Yeah, you know my brother, alright. He won't let go of that. So, are you her?_ "

"Her?"

" _The love of his life! Mother of his future children, never to be named Forsythe or Forsythia. The great Betty Cooper. I mean, I don't know who else he would tell me to call_."

Betty draws her coat tightly around herself as a chill rolls down her spine. "That's me. Jug… Jug sent you a text? When did he send it?"

" _Hmm, around two in the morning? I was asleep, or else I would have called him and asked what he meant by 'always loving me'._ " JB's voice was shaky, her bravado fading away. " _Betty? Did something happen to him? Is my brother okay?_ "

Betty hesitates, unsure of how much Jughead's sister knew of his life. Did she know of him joining the Serpents? Did she know about the ongoing assault on the Southside in Hiram Lodge's quest to build a prison complex?

Her silence beckons a tearful response from JB. " _Betty, please, tell me Jughead's okay. Please, please, tell me my brother's okay!_ "

"I can't do that, JB," Betty mumbles, tears sliding down her ashen cheeks.

A sob echoes across the line, almost primal. It's the sound Betty's heart made when she saw Jughead's battered frame carried out of the woods by FP.

" _Is he… is he?_ "

"He's alive, but… He's hurt really badly. They won't let me see him."

FP had tried. He'd insisted she was his fiancée, but the lack of ring, coupled with how utterly invasive small towns could be, had put a swift end to that deception.

" _What happened, Betty?_ " She hears the young girl blowing her nose. " _What did he do?_ "

Betty settles for the simplest explanation. "He was jumped by the Ghoulies. All of them. They left him for… for… I can't say it. I can't!"

Betty is breaking, shattering into pieces. She knows Jughead wants her to be strong, to be there for the sister he treasures, but she is small and weak. She is a dark creature. The daughter of a killer. Any love she held, any light, it's lying in a hospital bed, strapped in and tethered to machines that beep and blip and breathe for him because _oh God, his ribs, they said his ribs…_

" _Betty? Betty, don't. We have to believe in him. Like he believes in us._ " JB sniffles loudly, shuffling around what may be her bed. " _Jughead is the most stubborn jackass I know, and there's no way he's leaving you without a fight_."

"A fight is why he's leaving me," Betty whimpers, sliding off the chair onto the dirty floor.

" _And I promise, when he's all better, I will get on a bus to Riverdale and kick his ass if he started it. But if there's one thing I know, it's that he loves you. And he loves me. He does. And he wants to live._ "

Betty's palm presses to the bloodstained floor, slapping it softly. His final words ring in her skull: " _I just want to let you know that I love you. I'll never stop loving you. I'll see you soon_."

He wants to live. He does.

"I'm sorry, JB. I just… No one loves him like we do. Except FP, but he's been in the ICU all night and I'm so alone. I'm so alone without him."

" _I know. I do. But you have me. I guess I was hoping we'd meet or talk under better circumstances, but Betty? I just… I want to thank you. For making him so happy. Because you do._ "

"He loves you, JB. Whenever we're alone, talking about a future away from here, you're always in his plans. You're our neighbour, or we visit you on weekends at some college nearby." At this, JB snorts, laughing quietly to herself. "You're his family."

" _So are you_ ," JB replies softly. " _That makes us family, Betty_."

"Yeah," Betty agrees, swiping at her tears. "It does."

" _Betty? Should I…. come to Riverdale?_ "

Betty cradles the phone closer, leaning against the hard chair behind her. She wants to believe if things were truly dire, if it were time to say goodbye… _Oh God_ … If it were like that, FP would come get her. FP would make sure she could see him one more time. But he hasn't, and she has to believe it's because Jughead's hurt badly, but there's hope.

"I don't think it's that dire yet, but I haven't seen him. But FP hasn't come out, so I think… I think that means he's fighting."

JB is silent for a long minute. " _I'm going to check the bus schedule. Will you promise me something? As family?_ "

Across the room, Toni stirs in Cheryl's arms. Betty crawls further away, around a corner into a side hallway.

"Yeah, JB. What can I do?"

" _If it's really bad, can you at least call me? Hold me up to his ear so… you know…_ "

JB is crying anew, weeping loudly into the phone, and Betty wishes she were here, wishes she could hug her tightly. She wants to protect her. She needs to keep her safe. She is a piece of Jughead and that makes her a piece of Betty's heart.

"I promise you. Like he told me he'd see me soon. And I'm going to hold him to that." Betty swallows hard, the memory of blood and sweat and smoke flooding her nostrils and making her gag. "He told me he would see me, JB. And we'll come see you, together."

" _Thank you. I… I'm going to shower and check the buses, but I'll call back._ "

"Okay, JB. I'll keep my phone on."

" _And Betty? If you feel really alone, just… Call me. Okay? Because I know so many embarrassing Jughead stories guaranteed to cheer you up or at least make you laugh until you cry. And laughing crying is better than alone crying. Or something like that._ "

The corner of her mouth curls upward, ever so slightly. "It's a deal. Take care."

" _You too. Bye, Betty._ "

Betty presses her head backwards against the wall, shutting her eyes. In her mind, she pictures JB: a few years younger, her hair unruly waves like her brother and father. She imagines she has that crooked, sarcastic smirk they both have, with just as sharp of a tongue. But her eyes are soft, Betty decides. Soft like Jughead's. Soft like the eyes she longs to gaze into as she tells him she won't ever stop loving him, either. How all of her dreams feature the two of them together. How she's been remembering their conversations and that idea he had to jump on a bike and drive away forever sounds heavenly.

"Betty? Hey, you okay?"

Archie crouches down beside her, setting down two Styrofoam cups. It is only now she sees how bloodshot her lifelong friend's eyes truly are. Betty wonders if his frequent coffee runs may be an excuse to be alone.

After all, Jughead is his friend too. Maybe he hasn't been as loyal as he should be, but he's here now, when it matters most.

"I'm okay. I just… got off the phone with Jellybean."

Archie rocks back on his heels, falling onto his ass. "How? I mean, I didn't know you talked to her. Is she okay?"

"Jughead sent her a message last night, before meeting the Ghoulies. Gave her my number. _In case of emergency, break glass_ sort of thing." Betty reaches for the tea Archie's brought her, taking a long sip. "She's holding up."

"And you?" he prods gently. "It's okay not to be okay, Betty."

"Archie…"

"Because I'm not okay," he continues, bowing his head. "This isn't okay. Jughead… He can't _leave_."

"No, he can't," she agrees, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Our story's not over. It's just beginning."

The two of them remain on the floor, oblivious to the nurses muttering as they weave around their outstretched legs on their way to patient checks and prescription rounds. Betty and Archie, the golden children of the Northside. Best friends, united in fear and love for the self-proclaimed weirdo who sacrificed himself to stop a turf war.

It is only when a familiar, yet hoarse, voice calls Betty's name that they snap alert. Betty immediately scrambles to her feet, only to feel the ground slip from beneath her. Hello, vertigo. FP breaks her fall, looping an arm beneath hers to steady her.

"Easy, Betty."

She falls into his arms and FP embraces her warmly, tucking her head beneath his chin. He smells of leather and smoke.

"Jughead? Where's Jughead? What's happening?" She tugs away, but FP keeps a firm grip on her arms, which proves handy as she teeters on her weary feet.

"Jughead is critical, but stable," FP tells her gently. "And you can go see him now."

Betty presses her hand to her heart, eyes widening. "I… I can?"

"You're family. Ain't nobody telling you that you're not allowed to see him."

FP ushers her down the hallway, rounding a corner, then another, pushing her past a hesitant nurse with an icy glare. With every step, her footing is more sure, her heartbeat racing to him, racing to the one it beats for, until she is there at his door.

The blood is gone and while bruises remain, she can see hints of the man she loves. His hair is matted to his head, and there are so many tubes, she cannot help but sob in shock. FP rubs her shoulder, opening the door for her, and the air is gone. It is gone and she is gasping for it, but it is thin and lifeless, like Jughead in his father's arms.

"Breathe, Betty," FP urges her.

And he is there, in her head: _Breathe, Betts. I've got you. It's going to be okay_. She draws air in and holds it hostage, wringing every molecule of oxygen from it until the world ceases spinning.

_Hey there, Juliet. Nurse off duty?_

Betty's palm reaches out, gingerly caressing his cheek. _Oh, Romeo_. Her hand slips over his, squeezing tightly.

"Juggie," she whispers. "I'm here. I love you."

He is so impossibly small, lying in this bed, surrounded by machines and their cold electronic chatter. In her mind, Betty can hear JB's voice, shuddering but determined.

" _We have to believe in him. Like he believes in us._ "

Settling into the chair beside him, Betty rests her head beside his hand. Her cheek is hot against his cool skin. They've always been opposites, it seems. But he is her complement and neither can exist without the other.

She believes in him. She believes his words: " _I'll see you soon._ "

"I'm waiting," she whispers. "See me."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and may we all survive the angst of the episode tonight, and we will. Because Jughead is going to be fine. I demand it.
> 
> If you're following my season one AU Gaslight, a new chapter is coming later this week. And if you're not, it's a deep study of Bughead that plays with one key ripple effect: Jughead went to Toledo. For a while anyway.


End file.
